Symmetry
by PineappleOverlord
Summary: Death the Kid finds a girl who seems to have the same respect for order as him. Short three part, reader insert.
1. Chapter 1

Everyday, on the stroke of six, you would be there. Not a single deviation from schedule. You moved like clockwork. You were reliable.

The shinigami liked that.

It didn't take him long to notice you, standing at the riverbank, right in the middle of the bridge, staring out at the line of water, smiling absently. You never did anything except look out at the river, but you were always there, from six o'clock, when you would step onto the bridge and become the physical embodiement of symmetry that Death the Kid so adored.

He had made a habit of doing the same, hoping to see that wistful smile and that floppy hat that was purely you. He would sit at the café and watch the bridge in the hope of seeing you again. His fascination with you was clear: the perfection in the way you moved was beyond comprehension. It was as if you were an ultimate being, beyond human, beyond the flawed inaccuracies of others.

But, compelling as you were, he was happy to watch from an asymmetrical, flawed-fringed distance, and he found himself coming earlier and earlier so that he wouldn't miss a single glimpse.

The shinigami was learning that half an hour early was too early.

Drenched in rain, cold and tired, he sat obstinately at the cafe table, arms resting perpendicular to his abandoned drink. He blinked a raindrop out from his eyelashes and kept staring out at the river. Yes, he was wet, and yes, he felt like hell, but he could ignore that for that one heavenly moment when he would finally see you.

People moved back and forth before his eyes in a rush-hour daze, breaking apart the view, obscuring the bridge. They had to move now, the has to move quick, otherwise...

The clock struck six. The bridge was packed. He wouldn't see you today, not behind all these people.

But he waited anyway.

The crowd broke open, revealing an empty sector. Empty, because you weren't in it. Visions of that perfect symmetry, that perfect being crumbled before his eyes.

Death the Kid stood up and paid for his drink.

He turned away, began to walk from the mistake he had made, from the days he had wasted. But he looked back, not willing to say goodbye quite yet.

And there you were, pushing through the crowd with desperate arms and establishing yourself back in the centre of the bridge. He watched as you lifted your eyes lifted to the heavens, shoulders rolling forwards with a sigh, arms resting upon the railing, that perfect symmetrical face smiling out at the sunset.

The shinigami smiled too.

He'd stay just a little longer.


	2. Symmetry — 2

Someday he would go up to you and say hello.

But day after day after day, that 'someday' never came. Tomorrow, he would promise himself, and then followed it up with a maybe.

He thought that if he looked up close, he might find some flaw in your perfection. He thought that if he investigated further, he might find something that incriminated you. He thought that if his curiosity drove him any further, it might be the death of his dreams, much as curiosity was the death of the figurative cat.

The son of death himself couldn't handle the thought.

But the longer he watched, the further he fell. Every day, he found himself falling deeper and deeper into the irrevocable love he held for you. He found himself loving you even though he didn't know you. He found himself wanting to know you, to truly love you, that perfect symmetrical being.

He found himself walking up to that bridge.

But he paused, just a second, fingers grasping onto the metal railing the way he held his guns; on edge. He wasn't sure. After all this time, he still wasn't sure.

With tentative steps, he edged onto the bridge, towards you. You didn't notice- so immersed you were in the river. However, the shinigami noticed. He noticed that your perfection didn't decrease with the distance.

He paused again a metre away, and it was now that you sensed his presence. You turned to face him, (Kid wasn't at all surprised that you were as beautiful head-on as you were in profile) curiosity permeating your features.

"You're perfect," he wanted to say, but he replaced it with a "Hi."

You followed the greeting up with a wary, "Hello."

"I'm Kid."

"_. Nice to meet you."

The shinigami found himself scrutinising your face further, trying to find the smallest, most insignificant flaw, but finding none.

"You come here often, don't you? You're always at that cafe on the riverbank."

You noticed him?

"And you're always here, right in the middle of this bridge."

You sighed, "Yeah," and turned your beautiful face to the water, "It's the most beautiful place in the city, don't you think?"

He realised that an answer was expected of him and stopped analysing your lashes, "Yes, I suppose it has a certain symmetry to it."

"Oh? Are you an artist, Kid?"

"No, nothing like that. I just know to appreciate beauty when I see it. That's why I came here..."

He stopped short. What was he thinking? Why had he gone and said something as stupid as that?

But then you smiled.

It was crooked and imperfect, but he found that he didn't mind at all.

Death the Kid had fallen in love, and he had fallen beyond recovery.


	3. Chapter 3

Every day, on the stroke of six, you would be there. Not a single deviation from schedule. You moved like clockwork. You were reliable.

You had an incentive.

Kid would meet you every day and you would talk. He would tell you about his father and his weapons, but most of all about his fascination with symmetry. You would tell him him about your life and your dreams, but most of all, you would let him do the talking.

Sometimes, neither of you would talk, a friendly silence which revealed that you were holding his hand. You never really noticed until the silence came, so absorbed you were in this neurotic personality.

You felt strangely comfortable around the shinigami, and so you told him about the river, about what it meant to you. About art.

And Kid would listen, and he would nod and smile and ask questions.

Sometimes you would argue; you had your own naturalistic, flawed ideals which greatly clashed with his perfect symmetry.

But being in his company opened up new horizons, and you wanted to explore each and every one of them.

You realised that you were in love.

But you kept talking, not wanting to abandon the friendly security for a mere dream.

And as you talked, you noticed that inevitable inching closer, that magnetism that connected your soul with his.

And when he stopped for a breath, there was one thing on your mind:

"Kiss me."

He closed the short distance, and your lips touched. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you into him. You brought your hands up to his shoulders, deepening the kiss, tilting your head to gain better access.

His hand went up to correct it, "Symmetrical," he murmured, as your noses bashed awkwardly.

Your head vertical now, you leant forward to fuel the kiss, to feed the flames, but your lips fell short, trailing wispy breaths along his mouth.

A bit further, and you had it, you had him. Your lips reconnected, and slowly, slowly, your neck began to rotate again.

Death the Kid sighed into your skin, taking advantage of the angle to explore this new sensation.

For you, he would forsake his beautiful symmetry.


End file.
